The Grey
by Against.The.Current
Summary: "Helgen is done for and and I am calling a complete ceasefire as of this moment." Pacifism has the ironic tendency of throwing those who practice it directly into the line of fire. A SI story about walking the grey line between morality and destruction.
1. The World Will End in Fire

Chapter One

The World Will End in Fire

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><p><em>Some say the world will end in fire, <em>

_Some say in ice. _

_From what I've tasted of desire _

_I hold with those who favour fire. _

_But if it had to perish twice, _

_I think I know enough of hate _

_To say that for destruction ice _

_Is also great _

_And would suffice._

_- Fire and Ice _by Robert Frost.

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><p>My head lolled to the motion of a wagon. The tense coil of my spine felt every dip and bump in the road, yet if not for the crisp chill crawling across my skin I might have fallen back asleep again.<p>

But wake I did, fighting a wince as bright sunlight stabbed my eyes and made my pounding headache all the worse, until it was a marching band composed of nothing but drummers. When I tried to touch the lump I knew must be there, I realised that my hands were bound in front of me with rough rope. This, if nothing else, startled me from my daze and I lurched into an upright sitting position, blinking rapidly to try and make sense of it all.

I was in a wagon full of prisoners, most wearing sky blue hues, with a soldier who looked like a Roman legionnaire dressed in well-worn regalia holding the reins of a stocky draft horse. The equine snorted and whinnied softly, its breath visible as its hooves trod the frozen ground, following another wagon in front. Winter-touched pine trees pressed lined the road, their needles the only colour I could see in the bleak expanse as they reached out like knifes toward the prisoners' backs.

It was an achingly familiar scene.

"Hey, you, finally awake?" The man across from me to my left spoke up, "you were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush same as us."

With those words I knew where I was and though not _why_ or _how,_ what little knowledge I had was enough to make me groan and drag my frozen feet up onto the seat, burying my face in my knees as if to block out the world. The _imaginary world_ which I had been _forcibly landed in_.

"And that thief over there," Ralof continued to talk as if my life wasn't crumbling down about my ears.

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" Lokir spat. "Skyrim was fine until you came along," I wondered if he was talking about more than the border crossing, if he was an Imperial supporter... then I reminded myself that he would be dead soon enough and what was the use pondering on the drives of minor characters? "Empire was nice and lazy, if they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now."

Hammerfell, home of the Redguards, borders Skyrim, High Rock and Cyrodiil. It is a desert land which I knew little about having never played _Redguard_ myself, or read much about the game either. It got terrible reviews.

Was there a reason that Lokir would choose Hammerfell, when there were two other countries bordering Skyrim? Well, if he was trying to avoid Imperial troops I can see why he wouldn't go to the middle province- personally I would have chosen High Rock, because I had played _Daggerfall _extensively as a child, although my knowledge of current events wasn't fantastic. It was just my luck that I had spent so much time researching the Dawn and Merethic eras only to find myself in the Fourth Era. Ugh.

I never got around to finishing _Oblivion_ either and had spent so long doing side quests in _Skyrim_, I'd only completed the main quest line once. I hated the bickering of the two major factions and throughout the game had wanted nothing more than to bash the collective craniums of the Imperials and Stormcloaks together until they all saw _sense_.

Now, naturally, I was stuck in between the two armies and had to choose (I hated this part of starting a new game!) which of the two evils to align myself with so I didn't die facing Alduin.

Why was I worrying about video game factions exactly? I must have a concussion, if that was on my list of worries after being thrown into a video game as violent as _Skyim_.

Wait a minute- was I the player character? There was only four people in the wagon. Was I the _Dragonborn_? Oh fuck, fuck, fuck-

"You there." Lokir cut short my panicked strand of thought. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." Ralof's derisive tone on the word 'thief' belied his words. He certainly didn't consider someone like Lokir a 'brother'.

"Shut up back there!" The nasal voice of the Imperial driver snapped out over our heads, but the man went largely ignored. No point toeing the line if you were about to die anyway.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" Lokir asked after a long moment, either unable or unwilling to keep his mouth shut.

Nervousness or defiance, Ralof reprimanded him anyway. "Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the _true_ High King!" There hadn't been a moot so no, Ralof couldn't claim anyone was High King or not. It was a little silly to jump the gun either way.

And there my analytical mind went again, focusing on everything but how to get myself out of this situation. My defence mechanisms were more concerned with my mental health than staying alive, which was just typical really.

"Ulfric... The Jarl of Windhelm." Lokir breathed, looking across to the bound and gagged man before him. "You're the leader of the rebellion- but if they captured you... Oh Gods!" His shock was so palpable that I was almost ready to revise my opinion of Lokir's allegiance but then he spoke again. "Where are they taking us?"

Of course, Lokir was a thief, a True Neutral if ever there was one. Well, I shouldn't judge, it wasn't like I hadn't played thieves and assassins in the past- in fact most of the time I'd added some kind of criminal element. I'd like to think my character creation was a little more complex than Lokir's though. Generic two-dimensional classes were so very _dull_.

"I don't know where we're going." Ralof sighed, defeated. "But Sovngarde awaits."

"No! This can't be happening, this isn't happening!" An edge of desperation was creeping into Lokir's voice and for good reason, most crimes were prison offences. In _Skyrim_ you could kill random citizens, steal from nobles and set chickens on fire with little rebuke. The most you'd get is a bounty and subsequent time in prison. I suppose the laws might be different given that this wasn't a video game any more (and that in itself was a_ terrifying prospect_) but surely there wasn't usually a death penalty for stealing a horse?

"Hey, what village were you from, Horse-Thief?"

"Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

I snorted, the first noise I'd made since waking up. "Home is what most people think about at times like this, there is no racial diversity in that regard."

"Rorikstead." Lokir spoke, his eyes clouded in reminiscence. "I'm from Rorikstead."

"General Tullius, sir!" An Imperial called out, "the headsman is waiting, sir."

My stomach twisted at the thought. No matter what happened today, no matter what path I took in the future, I would witness a public execution in a few short minutes. I had no doubt that it would be the first of many deaths I would see in this world but it would mark the beginning of my changed life.

I prayed, as an Agnostic so seldom does, to any God that might hear me, that this nightmare might end so I could return home. Home to my nice warm bed, to my peaceful country where there were no dragons, or trolls, or anything else with intentions to maul me as soon as I stepped foot out the door. Why couldn't I fall into a fun _and_ safe video game?

The soldier kept talking but by this time I had blocked him out, I felt numb as Lokir starting listing the names of Gods under his breath.

"Look at him, General Tullius, the military Governor!" Ralof spat. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him."

"Oh joy..." I mumbled with great sarcasm into my knees.

Ralof concurred. "Damn elves, I bet they're got something to do with this."

High Elves were my favourite playable race in _Skyrim_ because of the magicka boost and Highborn perk, which were useful no matter what level you reached. If I had been feeling less sorry for myself I might have defended the mer population but really, all the High Elves I'd seen in Skyrim were pretty full of themselves.

"This is Helgen." Ralof spoke and from his look in my direction this seemed to be for my benefit.

"Mnn." I nodded. "Is it strange that an execution would take place here? Because this strikes me as a location of convenience." We rolled into Helgen and I cast my gaze about, knowing that this would be my last chance to see the place before it was a burned-out, bandit-infested hovel.

Rolaf huffed in agreement, "they fear taking Jarl Ulfric to Solitude for a proper trial. Better to end us quickly before our brothers and sisters can mount a rescue, they think."

"And thus, in the mad scramble to get rid of you quickly..." I gestured between Lokir and I. "We get the short end of the stick. Lovely."

"I used to be sweet on a girl here, she lived in a house just across the way." Rolaf unknowingly deviated from his prescribed lines. "I wonder if Veela is still making that mead with juniper berries..."

"I think we could all use a stiff drink right about now." I quipped and Ralof smiled faintly, if only for a moment.

"Who are they, daddy?" A young boy's voice piped up and the sound made my heart clench. How many children would die today?

If only someone would listen when I told them to evacuate... Ha, yeah right, like anyone would listen to me in a million years. I wasn't just a prisoner but a woman of indistinguishable race, with a funny accent and strange clothes. That being said, I was thankful that I wasn't wearing the rags that new characters were allocated, even if my t-shirt, jeans and light boots were useless for Skyrim's colder climes.

"Get inside the house, _now_." The father ushered his son away and I realised that I had once again zoned out. I hoped it wasn't a symptom of my head injury.

"Yes, papa."

"Get these prisoners out of the cart!"

"Why are we stopping?"

"Why do you think?"

Everything was moving so fast, I couldn't focus long enough to observe and I wasn't sure if it was fear or a concussion or a combination thereof. By the time Ralof spoke his iconic line, my stomach was a writhing pit and I was clutching my knees like a child would a teddy bear in the dark of night.

"End of the line. Let's go." Ralof looked across from me and I nodded even though my head swam. I really needed to pull myself together, if I could just trick myself into thinking this was a game- no, it was too realistic for that. Every scent, sight and sound was tangible and impossible to ignore. There was nothing resembling a _game_ in all of this.

...If not a game, then why not a play? I had been very involved in dramatical pursuits before I went to university and while I was hardly a fantastic actress I wasn't terrible either. I had always enjoyed coming up with reasons for characters acting the way they did, had delighted in delivering ambiguous lines multiple times in a wide range of emotions. One script could be read a thousand different ways and that had been one of the things I loved about the _Elder Scrolls_ game series.

Who said my fate was set in stone? There was no divine hand guiding my actions, no programmed code or assigned script to restrict me. Like _hell_ I would take this lying down!

I stood up as the order went out amidst Lokir's desperate cries and although I swayed a little I convinced myself it was because I'd gone numb from sitting still so long. Just like in the game, the player character trailed out last and I alighted solid ground just as the only other non-Stormcloak tried to convince Ralof to speak in our defence. The fact he said 'we' was a little touching and I revised my 'True Neutral' assessment.

"Whatever you do," I decided to speak up, "don't try to run. Bleeding out from an arrow in your back is a slower death than beheading."

Lokir whimpered and I replayed the opening sequence in my mind, silently calculating how long Lokir's escape attempt had taken and if he didn't run... shit, I really should have thought that move through. I was going to go to the block second, the Stormcloak in front of me would jump the gun and if I followed as I was meant to then I'd get my head chopped off before Alduin showed up.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Maybe there was something to be said for infallible computer code after all.

"Empire loves their damn lists..." Ralof said, jerking me from my thoughts once again, I really needed to keep my head in the game.

"Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, of Windhelm." Was the first name called out and the Nord beside me bowed his head.

"It was an honour to serve with you, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ralof of Riverwood." I remembered that Hadvar and Ralof were both from the same town, I wondered how well they knew one another, if they had played together as children and how many people this war had torn apart. "Lokir of Rorikstead."

Lokir whimpered, stumbling forward and hesitating between the lines of prisoners and the road to freedom. After a long moment he bowed his head and fell into line.

Well, _shit_.

"Wait, you there, step forward."

My moment to shine. I walked forward as slowly as I dared, light-headedness threatening to make me faint but no- I was playing a role, what kind of role I didn't know but fainting (or pretending to) would be a last resort. Evidently I was taking too long because I was called again. "You... Breton, forward!"

Breton? Huh. I suppose that made sense. I was short, dark haired and pale. I wondered if I had the abilities of a Breton or whether this was still my old body in every sense of the word. It would be interesting to see if I had new racial abilities, if I lived that long.

Now, what did I know about Bretons and High Rock? The land used to be divided into hundreds of cities, now there was only a handful, Daggerfall and Wayrest among them. The Lilac Bay surrounded the oldest structure in Tamriel, a tower reputedly built by the Divines themselves at the beginning of the world. The Mages Guild is a strong establishment (or did that change after _Oblivion_?) and children are tested at a young age for spell casting ability. The Forsworn have Gaelic names but most Bretons have those of French origin. What else? Oh, the populous is split into three factions: the ruling nobles who apparently have very complicated politics, a merchant class, and the peasantry. Not very different from how it used to be on Earth in some countries.

I didn't know how much of an Imperial or Aldmeri presence there was in High Rock right now, for all I know it could be a conquered land. Knowing so little of current events I would have to bullshit like never before.

"You. Who are you?"

That's my cue. I stepped forward, keeping my head held high as I hoped that it didn't look ridiculous that someone as short as I was staring down someone over six foot tall.

"I am Lyra Aragon of Daggerfall," I projected as I had been taught, my tone hiding the fear and trepidation I felt. 'Aragon' is a French surname and 'Lyra' was the only thing I could think of which sounded even vaguely Breton (even canon names had deserted me now). Normally when creating a new character, I look up lists of names previously used and either copied one or jumbled common suffixes and prefixes. I hadn't played a Breton since _Oblivion_ and I couldn't remember what I called her. "I am the daughter of Arathorn Aragon and I demand to know of what crime I am being accused of!"

Hadvar blinked, evidently not expecting my response. "You're from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue I imagine."

"My name," I swallowed the heart in my throat, "is 'Lyra' and you may address me as 'Lady Aragon'. There shall be no intrigue at court, only an outcry when news reaches my father's ears of the abhorrent treatment I have received at Imperial hands this day! I will ask again, of what _crime_ am I being accused of?" I arched a brow, tilting my chin up all the higher and refusing to let my gaze drop.

Hadvar scanned up and down his sheet as if it would hold answers. "I... I don't know. Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list..."

"Forget the list, she goes to the block."

"Excuse me?" I tried to sound less terrified and more justifiably insulted. "Is it a common practice to summarily execute innocent bystanders, least of all those whose deaths will spark an _international incident_? I demand that you identify which crime I am being accused of and then try me before a court of law!"

"You can demand all you want, princess," The captain snarled, grabbing the collar of my shirt and pulling my face close, "but we don't need a court to kill rebels."

"By all means," I threw my bound hands up in exasperation with an accompanying roll of my eyes, "kindly showcase for all assembled here how swiftly your beloved Imperial order falls apart- when you cannot subdue via your precious laws and regulations you resort to physical violence! Anyone with eyes can see that myself and that man over there," I flicked my hands in Lokir's direction, "are no more Stormcloak rebels than you are!"

"This one dies first." My heart stopped in my chest but I dug my feet in as she attempted to drag me into line. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad time to faint now? No, I had to keep this up, Alduin would come soon, I just had to stall...

"Are you willing to risk your career over this altercation, Captain?" I stumbled past the line of Stormcloaks and one would-be horse thief. "My life is on the line but I always can die tomorrow, if _you_ make a mistake of this calibre, all for the sake of a clerical error, the kindest fate open to you will be a dishonourable discharge when my father hears of my fate."

The captain drew short. I could see the dried blood on the headman's block from here, a fresh basket was already laid out in anticipation and I swallowed bile. "Death is irreversible Captain, and some mistakes are unforgivable."

"General Tullius," the Captain did not loosen her grip as she addressed her commanding officer, "what are your orders?"

The man looked considering for a moment, but it was the sort of expression one would don when choosing between chicken or beef for dinner, not whether or not to sentence a young woman to death. "The line of Aragon sounds familiar to me, but I never claimed to understand the intricacies of Breton politics. What say you, Elenwen?"

The Altmer looked me up and down before telling the captain to "check her hands." I blinked as the Captain did so, resisting the urge to snatch them back as she ran calloused fingers over my palms.

"Soft," she declared, "this one hasn't worked a day in her life."

I bristled at that, I'd like to see _her_ slog through the twelve-hour shifts I had pulled in the university library, staring at itty-bitty text until I thought my eyes might bleed out their sockets. I'd like _her_ to write the first draft of a dissertation in under four days after months of jumbled research, on a topic so obscure that none of my professors even knew how to mark it when I finally completed it.

Bite me, I'm an academic and proud of it.

And also inordinately happy that I sometimes moisturised my hands. Holy crap, my lacklustre beauty regime had actually saved my life. I was never going to preach on the uselessness of appearances ever again.

"Well, there you have it," Elenwen shrugged, "she is someone of importance. Perhaps a ransom would be of more aid to the war effort than another rebel's death."

"What should I do with her?" Hadvar asked as the captain finally let me go.

"We have enough cells, take her down there after we are finished here." The Captain looked to Tullius for confirmation and he (thankfully) nodded.

I felt as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I wasn't going to the block. I was going to live, if only for a little while longer.

From the distance, I heard Alduin's first cry.

Everyone glanced around but a moment later all continued as expected, Ulfric was reviled in front of the crowd, his crimes listed as his first comrade was called forward. The priestess of Arkay began to invoke the 'eight' Divines and the Stormcloak naturally took offence- whether you believed Talos was a God or not, it was a low blow to rub your own non-belief in someone else's face right before they died. Religious sensitivity, anyone?

The man walked to the block without fear and I winced as he was pushed to his knees by the Imperial Captain whom I was really starting to hate.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

Another cry rang out and a dark shape crested overhead. "What in Oblivion was that?"

"Deux ex machina." I grinned and someone on my left looked sharply in my direction. I didn't look around to see who it was because I was too busy craning my head to catch another glimpse of Alduin, but I felt their gaze on me all the while.

The headman raised his axe but was rocked off his feet a moment later as -sure enough- Alduin landed atop the tower in all his deathly glory.

"DRAGON!" I shouted as everyone stood about flabbergasted, "RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

Because really, who hasn't wanted to scream _that_ once in their lives?

Alduin roared his first Thu'um and I thanked my lucky stars that the prisoners weren't where he was aiming for.

Wait, there was one thing that I'd wanted to do in the game and hadn't been able to...

I ran to Ulfric, fumbling with my bound hands for his gag. "You blew apart a king, think you can take on a dragon?" I asked as I pulled back the gag and removed the waded cloth from between his teeth.

Ulfric looked at me with pale eyes which seemed to gaze right through me then called with a voice of command which did not require the volume I had just employed. "Stormcloaks, to the keep!" Then he drew a breath and, knowing what was coming, I ducked out of the way. "FIIK LO SAH," Ulfric called, closely followed by "IISS SLEN NUS!"

I recognised the first Thu'um used as the one that the Greybeards used to summon spiritual practice dummies. What I hadn't realised was that these constructs could _Shout_. Sure enough, the clone was able to spit ice the same as Ulfric, even if it was a far weaker effect than the original.

Even better- there wasn't the same Shouting time limit as in the game!

That was possibly the first piece of good news I'd heard since I landed here...

"**VUN!"** Alduin rumbled from overhead and I squeaked in fright, realising I was right next to the man who Alduin was aiming for...

I ran like hell, not even looking back to see if anyone made it out of the blast zone. I smelled scorched hair and flesh so I knew someone had been hit. I hoped it wasn't a necessary character- I wanted to keep the game on course a little bit!

The tower was empty when I got there and I smacked my forehead in frustration- of course it was! I'd left everyone out there with a pissed off dragon. If things went as they had in Bethesda's creation then Alduin would smash through the tower wall at some point. With that in mind I wedged myself against the wall of the staircase. There wasn't really anywhere to hide but I was short enough that I didn't think I'd be seen... or roasted if Alduin broke through.

I set to work on my binds, grimacing as I tried to work out the tight knot, but it was in an awkward position and was near impossible to grip with my teeth.

The door burst open at that moment to admit Rolaf, closely followed by Ulfric and three other Stormcloaks.

"I see you survived, friend!" Ralof looked positively cheerful even as he supported one of his brothers-in-arms who was wounded, his armour scorched at the shoulder and his face pale. "Then again, with the speed that you ran, I'd be surprised it you didn't!"

Abandoning the knots, I glowered at the blond. "In case you hadn't noticed- there's a _dragon_ outside." I wondered how much to say but thought 'why not', if I established myself a scholar, people would be less suspicious when I let something slip. "And not just any dragon, that's Alduin the World Eater! There's no way I'm tangling with _him_!"

"Alduin?" Ulfric queried, holding still while the only female Stormcloak of their company untied his hands.

"Yes, Alduin! There's only one black dragon in lore- well, only one in the lore that I know of." I tried to remember the section of prophetic verse that I had memorised during that long period of starting new characters every time I died. Yeah, my hardcore stint had died after about five random cliff falls, but the opening loading screen had stuck with me. "The Song of the Dragonborn heralds the dragons' return. How does it go again..." As soon as I remembered the first line the rest of the verse flowed like water.

"_And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold,_

_That when brothers wage war come unfurled,_

_Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound,_

_With a hunger to swallow the world."_

I nodded, quite pleased with myself for getting the whole verse. During my rendition, the Stormcloaks had managed to work their bindings loose and none looked particularly impressed.

"Grave tidings indeed." Ulfric rumbled. "But what does a Breton noble know of Nordic myth?"

I laughed and it was a ghastly sound, too tight and desperate and I choked it down. "Oh, I'm not a noble," or a Breton, "I'm a scholar, I was bluffing back there. A dragon attack wouldn't have been my first guess for a rescue but-"

Alduin roared his fury, blasting a hole in the wall above the size of a small car. I screamed as the flames passed over my head, a searing heat which made my skin prickle with sweat and all the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. It passed after what seemed like an eternity and when it was over I had to check myself to see if I was still intact. Nothing on fire. No pain. I was safe.

"-ra, Lyra!" Someone was shaking me and I looked up to see Ralof leaning over me. "Pull yourself together, lass. We need to get moving."

"What?" I squeaked.

"There are too many Imperials outside, we can use the break in the wall to escape." He pulled me to my feet and dragged me to the hole in the tower. The drop to the ground below looked a lot further than it did in the game...

"Nope. No way. I'll stay here and-"

Ralof pushed me. I screamed, barely missing one of the thatch support beams as I fell to the floor below. My feet ached and I was probably gasping like a fish out of water, but the fall didn't hurt as much as it should have- hell, at that distance I should have broken both of my legs. The female Stormcloak and her uninjured male companion were already at ground level and they laughed at my expression.

"RALOF YOU BASTARD!" I screamed up at the blond head of hair peeking over the opening. "NEXT TIME I'M GOING TO PUSH _YOU_ OFF THE TOWER AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!"

The sound of Ralof's laughter echoed down to me below, but the jovial atmosphere evaporated when I turned to see that the Stormcloaks ahead of me had vanished. I could wait for Ralof to jump down with Ulfric, but he might go another way. With the broken roof and flimsy walls, I felt intensely exposed here.

So I kept going.

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><p><strong>A.N.:<strong> Okay, so a few minor changes from _The Drawing Board_ version: grammar, word choice, structure- particularly in the first half of the chapter, generally cleaner and slightly less purple prose.

I'm not sure where it's going to fall in the update schedule but will likely be lower priority than my three existing stories.

I am using thuum dot org for all my dragon translation needs. It's a great site and I highly recommend it. I debated whether putting in the dragon word translations, either in the story itself of as end notes. Decided not to because I want to reflect Lyra's understanding of the language and at this point in time she only knows a couple of words, recognising most Shouts but not necessarily remembering the individual word meanings.

Since I have plans for the major guild and dragon questlines, what **minor quests** did you guys particularly enjoy in Skyrim, and what ones would you like to see me touch on here? You can include the Daedric quests, but I'd love suggestions for the more obscure ones too.


	2. Fierce Contending Nations

Chapter Two

Fierce Contending Nations

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><p><em>From hence, let fierce contending nations know<em>

_What dire effects from civil discord flow._

_- Cato, A Tragedy_ by Joseph Addison (Act 5, Scene 1).

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><p>Smoke was stinging my eyes by the time I plucked up my courage enough to continue. Faltering before I made the jump down from the upper floor of the house I'd landed in to ground level (wishing my hands were free to steady myself), I skirted the rubble of broken buildings closely. Crouching, I kept low with my eyes trained on the sky, rather than where I was putting my feet.<p>

"-you need to get over here, now!" The father I had heard talking to his son earlier cried out. The boy was staring up at the sky, bemused, in shock and completely exposed where he was standing. Finally he listened, stumbling towards what little protection broken stone could afford him. My heart steadied a little when he did, though I couldn't help but think _children aren't immortal outside of video games._

I retreated with the two of them, just in time for Alduin to land like a mountain falls and roar a pillar of fire down the smoke choked street. In _Skyrim_'s tutorial period, Alduin's breath did less harm than a weak Flames spell, but now I could feel intense heat rolling off him, causing my skin to prickle with sweat.

The air smelled like cooked pork and I forced down a wave of nausea.

"Still alive, prisoner?" Hadvar, who had been crouched previously unseen (as I was busy keeping my attention on the _fire-breathing dragon_), was suddenly at my elbow and I fought the urge to hit him for startling me. "Stay close to me if you want to stay that way."

I barely resisted laughing in his face, because _really_? He didn't even have a shield and Alduin had already toppled towers and melted solid rock. All the same, I gave the soldier a silent nod before he turned his attention to the townspeople.

Blood was rushing in my head, which still felt heavy and hot and swollen. I planted my feet so not to sway. _Keep it together, play the role, if you faint you will die here!_

"I'm going to find General Tullius and join the defence." Hadvar broke through my morbid train of thought, gesturing for me to follow him through the burning rubble as Alduin took to wing, making our cover obsolete. Now all we could do was move quickly and hope for the best.

"Stay close to the wall!" The soldier shouted, although I was walking in his shadow between an outer wall and a burning house. Knowing that Alduin would alight the stone barrier at any moment, I gripped Hadvar's tunic and pulled him down before he could protest.

Seconds later, Alduin landed right above our heads and burned a cluster of terrified town guards to a crisp right in front of us. Black wings were our canopy, I could hear the sound of scales whispering against each other as the dragon shifted, feel the heat of his belly as he expelled his flame before taking to the sky once more, sending a flurry of dirt and ash into the air.

"Follow me," Hadvar said, very quietly, and it was all I could do to nod. I was still gripping his tunic when we emerged from between the walls, but I was forced to let it go as we wove our way through buildings still smouldering from dragon fire. Fumbling with my bound hands, I pulled up the collar of my T-shirt and tried not to breathe until I was out of the smoke.

A courtyard next, full of soldiers and mages (mages! With _magic_!) firing arrows and throwing up spells. "That isn't going to work!" I coughed around the lump in my throat, "please, you _have_ to get underground!"

I was ignored by all but Hadvar, who gripped me by the arm and pulled me away. "Don't block the archers, they know what they're doing."

"No, they don't." I replied mournfully and I saw Hadvar's expression falter before he drew himself up again.

"We have to find General Tullius." He said, like a man grasping for a plan concocted during drills and strategy meetings, but never with this scenario in mind.

"He'll live," I said with dismal certainty. "But they won't if they don't get underground."

"...They're better equipped than we are to deal with this. Follow me, prisoner."

"My name is- Lyra. It's Lyra."

"Lyra then, come on."

We ran and I stumbled once on the leg of a corpse I hadn't seen for the stinging of my eyes. Hadvar dragged me up, his free arm around my waist in case I faltered again. We hid behind a newly formed outcropping as Alduin winged like a scythe over our heads. I didn't need to look back to see that the soldiers and spellcasters behind us were already dead; We had both heard the screams, abruptly cut short. The smell of crisping meat was everywhere and I didn't think I could ever eat pork again.

Distracting myself and taking advantage of the momentary lack of movement, I started rubbing the ropes tying my hands against Hadvar's sword edge.

Once he realised what I was doing, Hadvar drew the blade back with a rebuking frown.

"Oh, don't be an idiot," I said, using my elbow to draw his sword arm closer and continue the process. "I hit with the force of a wet rag, let's focus on the dragon, shall we?"

He grinned perhaps a little too widely, too wildly, at my attempt at humour, and helped me to my feet when the rough rope fell from my wrists, leaving marks where they'd scratched my skin pink.

An archer on the wall aimed high and let the string go, causing it to twang nosily against the flaps of his helm. Despite his shaking hands the projectile struck true, but as Hadvar and I ducked under the arch we heard the rush of wings followed by screams. We did not look back.

"It won't die, it just keeps coming!" An Imperial soldier screamed as the remaining forces took aim with arrows and magic. Hadvar and I stumbled onward into the courtyard with circular straw targets which hadn't yet been singed, showing that Alduin hadn't turned his sights to this area yet.

The place looked so different when it wasn't pixelated, with all it's little details and rich textures that even the best of graphics mods couldn't achieve, that I didn't realise what was coming until I was right in the middle of it.

"Ralof!" Hadvar snarled, unconsciously taking position in front of me so all I caught was a flash of blue cloth and corn-blonde hair. "You damned traitor, get out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar." I could hear the desperation in his voice. "You're not stopping us this time."

"'We', 'us'?" I stepped out from behind Hadvar. "You're alone, Ralof."

The Stormcloak blinked slowly, his sword hand shaking. "They- they're right- they _were_ right behind me."

"Ralof..." I softly intoned, keeping my bare hands up in front of me, "I think we should all get inside, don't you?"

"Lyra!" Hadvar sounded positively scandalised. "He's a Stormcloak!"

"Yes, and proud to defend my country from the likes of you!" Ralof recovered enough to scream back.

Alduin winged overhead and swooped down upon a group on the other side of the high wall ahead of us. Mage fire lit the sky for a brief moment before it was drowned out by a roar mingled with words I remembered a computer generated high elf Shouting, once upon a itme. **"YOL TOOR SHUL!"**

My whole body shook with a bone rattling shudder. "We have to get inside." Where there would be _people killing other people_, not to mention the giant spiders and even the sleeping cave bear which might decide to not be sleeping because why not, everything was horrible here. I could hear Alduin Shouting, which meant he was too close. "We have to get inside!"

Hadvar used his free hand to try and steer me away, keeping his sword pointed at Ralof like he was a skeever about to leap at his face. "Lyra, get in the keep."

His own sword likewise drawn, Ralof stalked forward. "She is _not_ going with you!"

Alduin swooped down through the cloud cover he had just recently disappeared into, scorching the earth beneath his flight path. _Why is Alduin doing that? He could just call meteors down to crush us all so why is he burning everyone? _With a sick weight in my stomach, I wondered if this was Alduin's version of stress relief: to pick humans off one by one and roast them alive. From his point of view, Alduin had been staring down the Tongues what, half an hour ago?_ This rampage... it's just one big tantrum, isn't it?_

As if by its own accord, with one hand curled around Hadvar's, I reached out and gripped the length of blue scarf trailing down Ralof's chest, clenching it tight and immovably. Looking Ralof in the eye and cutting short whatever he had been saying (my ears were ringing and I felt faint, I could barely hear myself, much less him) I said one last time: "We _have_ to get inside."

"This Imperial bastard would have seen both our heads in a basket! Lyra, you freed Jarl Ulfric's tongue, you cannot go with him." The Stormcloak tried to reason with me.

"He saved my life." I said, although really, who could be sure at this point? "And you got me out of the tower. I don't want _either_ of you to die."

Hadvar kept tugging me closer to the shadow of the wall, but with my grip on Ralof as well he followed us, albeit warily. "We have to get underground." Hadvar insisted. "You told me that, remember? Well I believe you. Come _on_-"

What came out of my mouth next was completely unplanned. "I'm one of Tamriel's leading scholars in draconic lore." _Oh look, that got their attention._ "More dragons are coming and I know the only thing that can put an end to them for good. Also, I'm _not_ moving from this spot unless you both come inside the keep with me."

It was a bluff, albeit a good one.

The two men shared a long look and Ralof was the first to break the silence. "What you were saying before, in the tower, you truly know more?"

"There are _more_ of these things?" Hadvar enunciated the words carefully, like he couldn't believe was he was saying. I supposed that the existence of _one _dragon was enough to break anyone's brain, it was certainly doing a number on mine.

I nodded, having gone back to keeping Alduin in my line of sight, so I could make a break for inside as soon as I saw him coming this way (I was stubborn, not suicidal).

"Then let's go." Ralof fumbled to get his blade into his opposite hand, pressing his free one to the small of my back and steering me. His sweat leached through the fabric of my shirt. "I can stand to walk beside an oppressor for the good of Skyrim."

Hadvar bared his teeth, an expression that could not be misconstrued as a smile. "You don't know what you're talking about-"

"GET IN THE FUCKING KEEP!" I screamed at them for posturing when we should have been running towards the nearest door. Shocked by my profanity, volume, or all of the above, they finally picked up the pace and we all ducked inside the forbidding grey structure.

The door slammed shut behind us, but it didn't do much to block out the sound of the dragon outside.

The room we all but stumbled into was cold stone, with little added warmth from the woven rag rug or the half-dozen animal heads mounted around the room. A large cast iron candelabra scattered shadows like a segmented clock face on the floor, as well as the man lying still in a pool of his own blood in the far corner.

"Gunjar." Ralof murmured, ceasing his hovering to go to his comrade's side. Brokenly, the blond knelt, and closed his friend's eyes with a shaking hand. "Another one, I thought he had escaped..." I could hear him swallowing from where I stood near the door and I bit my cheek to keep my anxiety silenced, the dead deserved a moment of quiet. "We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother."

Then Ralof rose, now gripping Gunjar's iron war axe in a white-knuckled grip. He turned his eyes, so cold they burned, in Hadvar's direction.

The Nord of the Imperial Legion pushed me behind him and widened his stance.

The Nord of the Stormcloaks snarled and advanced at the soldier with both weapons drawn.

"No." I said firmly, stepping between them before they were in striking distance of one another, "we are _not_ doing this now."

"It would only take a moment." Ralof snarled and for the first time I saw tears in his eyes. "And it would give my brothers, my sisters, my _Jarl_ peace in Sovngarde!"

The world seemed to freeze around me. "Wait. Ulfric's _dead_?"

"Jarl Ulfric!" The Stormcloak snapped at me.

I quickly back-peddled. "Yes, Jarl, I know but really- is he?" _I killed him, didn't I. Holy shit. Less than a day in and I led to the death of a major character. This is why plotful NPCs are supposed to be indestructible!_

Ralof nodded and tears slipped unabashedly down his face.

"Hey," my voice came out low and soothing, like I was approaching a skittish cat, "it wasn't your fault, okay?" _It was mine. _Moving slowly, warily, with both hands still raised where he could see them, I caught his gaze and held it. "It wasn't your fault, Ralof, but I need you to hold yourself together just a little while longer. We need to warn people about the dragon and get as many survivors out as we can, all right?"

He nodded again and slowly, so not to startle him and get stabbed, I gave him a hug. His chainmail left impressions where my skin pressed against it, the metal rings heavy and slightly oil-slicked, his blue raiment stinking of smoke like the rest of our clothes. I focused on these small details and dutifully ignored Ralof's hitching breaths as he struggled for control. After a few moments he hugged me back, his grip grasping and desperate like a drowning man clinging to flotsam to keep his head above water.

Hadvar held silent vigil as we took that small comfort in one another, but all too soon the moment passed. "We need to keep moving." He informed us gently. "There are tunnels leading out of Helgen underground."

"Yeah," I detached myself from Ralof, his cheeks damp, "let's check the gates."

An iron gate to the left, a wooden one directly across from it. "There's no way to open this one from our side." Hadvar said, trying in vain to reach the pull-chain through the bars of the wooden gate. "And I don't have the key for the other."

Ralof hefted his fallen friend's axe, giving it a few practice swings before approaching the gate. "Fat lot of good you are, Imperial." Hadvar wisely stepped back as Ralof went to town on the wooden struts, hitting them with more force and fervour than was safe. I took a cue from Hadvar and kept my distance as splinters went flying.

After turning two slats to kindling, we all heard footsteps along the corridor, even over the noise of Ralof's enthusiastic remodelling.

Hadvar sensibly approached from the left, where Ralof was holding his sword pointed downwards. "Who approaches?"

Then the Imperial Captain who had ordered my execution rounded the corner, marching down the corridor. "Escaped prisoners!" She cried, the soldier beside her drawing his sword in sync with her. "The dungeons are compromised, you know what to do!"

"Wait!" I yelped, holding my hands up in the universal gesture of 'mean no harm'. "We don't want to fight you-"

Ralof snarled: "Speak for yourself!"

"Captain!" Hadvar shouldered past Ralof, inadvertently (or deliberately) shielding him from view. "Helgen has fallen, we cannot fight amongst ourselves _and_ survive a dragon."

The Captain pulled the chain to rise the gate, growling when it stuck halfway due to Ralof's handiwork. "This is insubordination, Sergeant."

"With all due respect, Captain, this is survival. The Lady Aragon has knowledge pertaining to the dragon attack and has made her aid conditional on a temporary truce between ourselves and the Stormcloaks." The soldier rattled that off in one breath before falling into a less than demure parade rest. "Our duty is to the people, first and foremost. That ideal is what the Imperial Legion was founded on-"

"Don't lecture me on history, Sergeant. Or ethics." The Captain exhaled a harried breath. "You- girl, you know what's going on?"

I squeezed my way through the two tall Nords with some difficulty. "I know the dragon's name, history, and motives." I responded succinctly, trying to keep my tone neutral even as my words fell out clipped and frosty. This woman had tried to have me killed after all. "Plus that more of these things are coming, and that one thing that can put them down for good."

The Captain huffed. "Doesn't take a genius to figure out a good sword in the right place, or a few well-aimed siege engines could end this."

"Ma'am," Hadvar protested, "we cannot be sure of that-"

"This is a _dragon_," Ralof interrupted, "a creature from the old tales, it cannot be defeated by Imperial tools!"

I put a hand on Ralof's arm before the argument could escalate. "We _need_ to get out of Helgen. I'll tell you more when we're deeper into the tunnels."

"You're going the wrong way then, the tunnels are down that way," the Captain jerked her head at the iron gate behind us and I cursed my terrible sense of direction and lacklustre memory for logistics.

Hadvar shrugged when Ralof and I turned to stare at him. "I wasn't issued a key, but they usually keep a spare in the other room." He defended his decision of letting Ralof beat down the door going in the wrong direction.

Gritting her teeth, the Captain kicked at one of the remaining slats even as the three of us stepped away to avoid flying splinters. She made short work of it and coupled with Ralof's earlier destruction, stepped through the gap with ease. "That won't be a concern any more, I have my key with me."

Hadvar grasped my arm like I was a heroine in an Austin novel, guiding me out of his superior's warpath as she marched to the iron gate, the soldier accompanying her dogging her footsteps even as he made a wide berth around Ralof.

"So, talk." The Captain demanded as she pushed the gate open, creaking plaintively on its hinges as she strode past it without pause.

I went over what I knew in my mind, following her briskly down the corridor and ill-lit curving staircase, repeating the mantra in my head of _no time no time notimenotime-_

"Alduin, the black dragon's name is Alduin. He has many titles: Bane of Kings, World-Eater, he is fire and shadow and death." _No, wait, that's Smaug isn't it- _"He was supposed to be dead, only I think vanquished is a better term for it-" I was rambling again. "Perhaps frozen, sleeping, trapped in another realm, transported through time and space to the here and now-" _I really need to stop giving the plot away! _"The unfortunate thing about Alduin being here, aside from his presence spelling the possible end of the world, is that he's supposed to be able to bring back the other dragons. If he's here that means we'll soon have his army to deal with as well."

"Explain." The Captain's boots clicked rhythmically against the stone stairs and it was only by her grace that my short-legged trot managed to up. "The dragons are dead, all the stories say so, are they like this- this Alduin creature? Able to come back like he did?"

I pushed my sweaty, soot-stained hair off my forehead. "The other dragons _were_ killed, but so long as their souls are alive, Alduin can bring them back."

We came out into another corridor but it was decimated- already blocked by a cave in of stone and mortar. _Shit, _I thought,_ so we are behind schedule... _

The Captain growled as the rest of the company caught up with us. "Ma'am?" Her... Private? Deputy? Secretary? Subordinate, certainly, piped up. "Could we dig it out?"

"No, it would take too much time. This damned dragon is bringing down the whole building- centuries this keep has stood for!" She turned on her heel, shouldering open the wooden door to her left with her sword drawn. When I proceeded to follow, Hadvar pulled me back, letting the subordinate go through next.

"Easy, we don't know who else is in there."

"Admand, Laeca!" I heard the Captain call, "good to see you two alive. Did any others make it down?"

"Not that we saw," another woman answered after Hadvar finally let me go through. "There may be others further in, we were gathering supplies- the tunnels, they could have anything in them, giant spiders, trolls, goblins-"

"There aren't any goblins this far north, Laeca." The second soldier, this one a man, told his blonde companion. He was willowier than she, pale where she was olive skinned, with dark hair peeking from out under his leather helmet. "All we have to worry about is- Stormcloak!" He shouted, his hands suddenly flickering with conjured fire.

This wasn't like stepping between Ralof and Hadvar, but still I instinctively turned to shield the blond Nord from attack. It was only when I was facing away from the rest of the company, pressed against Ralof's frankly rank smelling chest while simultaneously trying to pull him down to my height and make him a smaller target, did I realise how _stupid_ I was being. Frozen, shaking, my eyes screwed shut, I didn't move until I was sure no one was killing Ralof.

"Stand down," the Captain's voice snapped whip-like across the tense silence, "the prisoners are coming with us."

"Prisoners? We will _not _go back to the block!" Ralof snarled and I planted my feet in case he made a lunge, bracing my hands against his chest. "Never again!"

"Ralof, please." I tried to reason. "That isn't going to happen, I won't let it, please, we just need to get through this-"

"Do you forget what they almost did to us- even you! You who did nothing wrong, these Imperial bastards would slit all our throats if it weren't for the dragon-"

"Well there _is _a dragon and I am the only one who knows what to do about it!" I snapped, "and we are all going to stop fighting and pull together or I'm not telling anyone another thing!" I rubbed my face, suddenly feeling so bone-weary tired that no amount of adrenaline could make up for it. "Imperials, Stormcloaks, Thalmor- Alduin doesn't care, he just wants us all dead!"

"A truce." Hadvar broached soothingly, "until we get out of here-"

"What stops her-" Ralof gestured to the Captain, "from killing us as soon as she gets what she wants?"

The Imperial officer drew herself up, "how _dare_ you question my honour-"

"You signed away your honour on the White-Gold Concordat!"

"We had no _choice_! Skyrim was little help during the damn war and now it's over-"

"ENOUGH!" I shouted, immediately regretting it as my head gave a protesting throb. "Helgen is done for and everywhere else is going to follow if we don't do something about it. Now I couldn't give a damn about political factions and neither should you right now, because as far as Alduin's concerned we're all just lunch on legs." I glared at everyone who would meet my gaze. "That means no arguing, no fighting, no aggression whatsoever until further notice. I am calling a complete ceasefire as of this moment."

The Commander's underling muttered 'you don't have the authority to call a ceasefire' yet looked away first when I glowered at him with twice the usual intensity.

It was a small victory, but with the day I'd been having, I'd take what I could get.

* * *

><p><strong>A.N.:<strong> Well, since I had already posted an earlier version of the first chapter to _The Drawing Board_, I thought it was only fair to get the next one up as quickly as possible. The schedule will now continue with single updates as normal- look at my profile for progress and publishing order (please stop reviewing/PMing me about when such-and-such will update).

I'd love to hear from everyone (both _Skyrim_ players and old readers who are giving this story a shot) about the characterisation of Ralof and Hadvar. One is passion, the other restraint, but I tried very hard to make both of them as human as possible in a short space of time. What do you think of them?

Finally: Your thoughts on Ulfric?


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